“Don’t say them. I’m doing this because I need all the friends I can get. When the time comes that you sit in with me and Whisper and Pete, I don’t expect the sour end of it.”
“You won’t get it,” I promised. “Who’s going to be chief of police?”
“McGraw’s acting chief. He’ll likely cinch it.”
“How’ll he play?”
“With the Finn. Rough stuff will hurt his shop just like it does Pete’s. It’ll have to be hurt some. I’d be a swell mutt to sit still while a guy like Whisper is on the loose. It’s me or him. Think he croaked the broad?”
“He had reason enough,” I said as I gave him the slip of paper on which I had written my name. “She double-crossed him, sold him out, plenty.”
“You and her was kind of thick, wasn’t you?” he asked.
I let the question alone, lighting a cigarette. Reno waited a while and then said:
“You better hunt up Ricker and let him get a look at you so’s he’ll know how to describe you if he’s asked.”
A long-legged youngster of twenty-two or so with a thin freckled face around reckless eyes opened the door and came into the room. Reno introduced him to me as Hank O’Marra. I stood up to shake his hand, and then asked Reno:
“Can I reach you here if I need to?”
“Know Peak Murry?”
“I’ve met him, and I know his joint.”